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Illusion of Control "We took pains to maintain an illusion of control over our addiction and our lives...In our recovery, it is important to release our illusion of control and surrender to a Higher Power…." – JUST FOR TODAY, November 23. I don’t know how long I convinced myself that I was in control, not only of my disease but of the world around me and all those who populated it. My disease even convinced me from time to time that the God of my misunderstanding had turned the reigns of his universe over to my care, placing me in the driver’s seat and then breathing a huge sigh of relief that He could take a little time off. Sure it was a hefty assignment for me but since I was totally infallible it was no big deal. Looking back over the decades that have passed in the blink of an eye, the universe I thought I controlled was so small and so insignificant that it might as well have not existed, if in fact it ever did outside of my own warped mind. As a newspaper columnist, I interpreted “the power of the press” to mean that as long as the perks of the job kept flowing, the glass never became empty, the offers of drugs never ceased, the bill for elaborate dinners or concert tickets never appeared, the sexual partners never vanished and the ass-kissing never stopped, my illusion of control could flourish. As long as I was the husband and father to be obeyed and respected, I could agree that God had indeed made a wise decision by putting me in charge. Forced into drug rehab treatment, the illusion continued, perhaps even became greater as I elevated myself high above those around me, the ones who really needed scare tactics of the physical and mental damage their using had caused. They might fall for the BS doled out to them that working some inane sounding Steps could change their lives. They might admit that they needed help and allow others to be privy to their innermost thoughts. They might surrender to some power greater than themselves--but most assuredly, not me. I had perhaps let things get a little out of control, but that was understandable. Who wouldn’t screw up every so often when he had the whole universe to run? And could anybody be further off-based than the head of the treatment program who told me that I needed to go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings? I didn’t ride a Harley. I didn’t live under a bridge. I had no infected track marks. What could any program with a name like Narcotics Anonymous offer me? How did this guy even manage to hold his job with such a poor sense of judgment? Of course I proved he was wrong. No mood-changing, mind-altering chemical was used for two years. I had proven once again that I was in charge and the illusion of control could resurface, as it did the night I decided a glass of wine with dinner could do no harm. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t remember much of the next seven months since what little I can recall is enough to remind me that I entered a realm of hell not even imagined by Dante or Stephen King. When I was moved from the psychiatric unit to the drug treatment unit of the last hospital I was in, my illusion of control began to slowly diminish. An H&I panel from Narcotics Anonymous came to the facility for a meeting. I have no idea what they said. I was lucky to have been there as I was told later that the medical staff had actually expected me to go into cardiac arrest. My seven-month relapse, that near fatal illusion of control, had resulted in more physical, spiritual and emotional damage than all the years of using that had led up to choice I had been given of going to treatment or getting the sack from my last newspaper job. The dictionary defines illusion as “a false interpretation by the mind of a sense of perception….a belief that has no real substance.” No real substance. My life had no real substance before NA entered it. When I think of the risk I took the years I stayed out of the meeting rooms, I see that there was no real substance in my life. I had fallen once again into the trap of an illusion of control. I realize today that my disease is so powerful that at any time the old illusion of control can return. The further away from my last use my recovery takes me, the greater the danger of complacency and with that can come “a false interpretation of the mind” of how well I have become. But I am not well. I am better and I can continue to get better with each meeting I attend, each act of surrender I perform by using the tools I have been given such as the Third Step Prayer, each call I make to my sponsor or each call I receive from a sponsee, each time I share my experience, strength and hope and each time I participate in service work. Amassed clean time can be a blessing and a danger to me today. It is easy to forget that it is the basics that got me clean and that it is the basics that will keep me clean and bring the blessings of serenity, acceptance, trust, surrender, hope and much more into my life. I need to regularly rework the first three Steps. I need to surrender on a daily basis. I need to remind myself and be grateful that today I have a choice. As long as I continue to do these things, the illusion of control becomes fainter. If I stop working the program that I have found I need, the illusion can quickly reappear. The November 23 reading reminds me, “In our addiction, we were afraid of what might happen if we didn't control everything around us.” Today I am much more afraid of what might happen if my disease again leads me to believe the illusion that I in control. Michael1981 23 November 2009

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Michael1981

 

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